


Pinball

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Apprentice - Freeform, Brain Damage, Canon Universe, Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulation, Post-Crisis (DCU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Slade had given up his search for a successor until he met Talia's new pet.“What is he?” He asks.Talia answers as if it were some cruel joke, “He’s dead.”





	Pinball

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during post-crisis "Red Hood and the lost Days." References are canon with minor liberties to make the timeline fit. Please pay attention to the tags as they are added, I don't plan on this being a smooth ride.

Slade clicked the metal briefcase open to make a quick count of his payment.

“I have another assignment,” Ra’s spoke from his throne.

“I’m booked.” 

“Really? Something with more precedence than the League of Assassins?”

Slade snapped the case shut satisfied with the amount. “This one’s personal.” He turned to leave only to be met with the blade of Talia Al Ghul at his throat.

“Careful about your tone,  _Terminator._ ”

“Talia,” Ra’s warned.

“Listen to your father. Or don’t,” Slade taunted. Talia pushed a fraction of an inch closer with her blade before withdrawing so fast it sliced the air between them. There was a lot of power and control in her tight lean frame but Slade was as intimidated by the daughter of Ra’s as he was the man himself; not very.

She turned to Ra’s, forgetting the man beside her. “Father, I’ve found something.” She tugged on a thin chain connecting her hand to the collar of a boy standing behind her. He stumbled forward all tattered clothes and skinny limbs and Slade would have already left the room if it wasn’t for, well he wasn’t quite sure what it was. The prisoner, who couldn’t have been more than 15, was completely unremarkable. His gaze trained to the floor was unfocused and void of emotion. His hair stringy, his skin grey, and his muscles pinched from starvation.

Talia guided the boy to his knees and pushed his head back to bare his throat, mouth lolling open.

“Who is he?” Ra’s asked more annoyed than interested.

“Watch.” She positioned her sword to the boy's Adam’s apple drawing no reaction and Slade idly wondered if he was blind, deaf, dumb, or all three. Talia made a grand gesture to cleave her blade swiftly through the youth’s neck and Slade tensed at the unprompted decapitation, but with sudden animation the boy dodged back with enough momentum to propel into a backwards somersault. His legs flew up to kick the blade from Talia’s hand before sprawling lamely on his face.

It wasn’t until Talia made another attack that the youth jumped back to his feet and blocked again, expertly parrying the series of death jabs that would have paralyzed if landed and Talia wasn’t one to pull her punches. The youth readied himself to block a high kick but Talia gripped the chain and yanked, pulling the kid directly into the point of contact. He crumpled to the ground and Talia stomped on his chest. A skinny kid that age should have been down for the count but the kid snarled like a maniac and started clawing at Talia’s leg, spit flying from his mouth.

_Not great, but not bad…_

“What is he?” Slade spoke.

Talia flicked her gaze to the assassin, clearly displeased to see him still there. She made one amused huff, then turned back to her father answering as if it were some cruel joke, “He’s dead.”

 

—-

 

3 months later

 

Slade clashed his God Sword against his opponent’s scimitar. He returned to the League of Assassins on a teachers contract to help prepare the League for a larger, more global attack. He had no invested interest in helping Ra’s Al Ghul but after his personal mission ended in nothing short of disaster, he needed time to repair his depleted funds and find control of the new rage that thrummed through his body.

He bore down his weight, trying to force the blade from his opponent's hands. The lithe assassin deflected with a clever side flip that reminded Slade a little too much of a particular someone.

He snatched the assassin’s throat with his free hand and punched with his other fist, still wrapped hotly around the hilt of his sword, three swift times into the assassin’s nose. It broke with a bloody spurt.

“Ch-cheater!” His opponent gasped through thick globs blood, falling to his knees.

“Winner.” Slade corrected. He flicked some of the blood from his gauntlet to the floor and sheathed his weapon. “Lesson’s over, work on your openings.”

Slade left, practically stomping his way to the armoury. He clenched his fist hearing the slight squelch of blood between his fingers. Despite his temper Deathstroke was a master of control and it infuriated him that any semblance of  _Dick Grayson_ could ignite his rage.

When he first met the boy he had seen all the skill and tenacity that his own sons lacked in order to inherit the Deathstroke mantle. After losing Grant and Joey he had tried to recruit Grayson but the boy’s way of thinking had been manipulated beyond the point of breaking by the Bat. Then Rose showed up, a real diamond in the rough. He made a deal with Grayson, thinking he could train that natural born finesse into his daughter, but he wasn’t expecting Grayson to double cross him and needle that defected moral thinking into Rose’s mind.

Dick took his daughter from right under his nose.

Slade cracked his fist into the stone carved hallway. Four failed attempts. Four children who lacked the discipline to learn and the potential to grow. Five if he counted Terra, which he didn’t.

To his right the distinct battle cry of Talia Al Ghul, followed by the swift thump thud of a body, told him that the heiress was in the middle of her own ‘lesson’. Poor bastard was probably on the brink of death.

“Again Jason,” came her venomous purr through the training door and it was the  _tone,_ almost a little too fond, that had the Terminator watching through an opening in the door. 

Talia was squaring off against that same absent boy she had brought home months ago, both of them drenched in sweat and breathing hard. She braced herself for a high kick with enough power to crack ribs and Slade would have memorized how she balanced her weight, if he wasn’t drawn to Jason’s subtle and purposeful roll of a few choice limbs.

A flinch. A flinch that helped a person roll with the punches. A flinch born to street kids who always fell prey to nastier, bigger, thugs. Pure instinct.

By sacrificing a full block and absorbing the brunt of her kick, he would gain an opening to attack during Talia’s refractory period. That is, if he could stomach the initial kick. Sure enough, Talia struck against Jason’s side and as he twisted from the force of the blow, he elbowed her hard in the diaphragm. 

Jason was the only one to collapse after the altercation but by the pained expression on Talia’s face, he wasn’t necessarily the loser.

Talia pulled Jason to his feet and Slade half expected her to strike him across the cheek but instead she brought a hand tenderly to his face.

“What do you want, Deathstroke?” Talia addressed Slade through the door.

Slade entered the room and studied the two. Talia was a cold woman, not fond of anyone or anything, yet she seemed quite proud of this pet.

“Where are you from, boy?” Slade asked but was ignored, Jason’s eyes still trained to the floor. A Muscle twitched in Slade’s jaw and he moved to grip the boy’s shirt and force his face up, “Talk.”

Talia gripped Slade tight around the arm, “Drop him,” she warned.

He released Jason and the boy stumbled, momentarily confused. “He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t think. This kid has natural instinct most men couldn’t obtain from a lifetime of training and he’s dumb as a doorknob,” Slade gave Talia an accusing look, “Where did you find him?”

Talia smirked. “Why? Looking for a protégé who won’t think for themselves?”

Slade squeezed the hilt of his sword and Talia’s expression turned deadly. 

“Jason?” Talia asked and it surprised Slade to hear Jason’s mumbled “Yes mam,” in response. 

“Kill him.”

Slade withdrew his blade in time to block the attempt for his throat and in truth he could have ended this instantly, but a part of him wanted to see just how far this kid could go. Re-sheathing his sword and noting Talia’s satisfied face, he was certain she was thinking along similar lines. She wanted to test her pet, confident Deathstroke wouldn’t kill out of contract.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I 100% titled this fic in reference to the Pinball Wizard: blind, deaf and dumb.  
> Haha please kill me.


End file.
